Fix You
by LittleMissAnthrope
Summary: What did Matt do during those five years after Mello left Wammy's? What will his reaction be when, out of the blue, Mello contacts him and actually needs his help? MxM.
1. Chapter 1: Phone Call

Yo, duuuuudes. XD Fanfic numero tres. To be honest, I can't believe I've gotten this far. And, guess what? This one actually has CHAPTERS!! O_O Not another one-shot! 'Kay, so, this is set sometime after Mello's abandonment of Matt… Right after (RIGHT after, literally) he blows the base up. (Yeah, that was a **spoiler**. Don't want to see any more? Then stop reading.)

**Rated M** for: language (It's Mello, guys. In pain. A lot of pain. And a sometimes-pissed-off Matt. So, yeah.), gore (Again, Mello just blew up a base. He's burnt to a crisp, more or less.), and mature themes (There may be some yaoi/shounen-ai in later chapters. As far as this chapter goes, I think you're good on that front. Expect it later—but _don't_ expect mindless fucking. Lo and behold, there will be plot and emotions even if things do get hot and heavy!).

**Spoilers include**: names (Matt and Mello's real names), ep… whatever ep Mello decides to push the pretty red button. So yeah.

**Please please please review! And don't fave and run! I mean, faving is great and all, but I want to know **_**why**_** you liked it!!**

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_Push the pretty red button._

Nothing could possibly prepare him for this. He had no choice.

The world exploded. Literally. Searing light tore through the back of his eyelids, and a roar ripped through the silent, dark air an instant faster than the heat that engulfed half his body, burning him, destroying him.

Some twenty feet from where he'd been about half a second before, the man on the ground screamed and thrashed, desperate to escape that god-awful pain. Quickly it became too much for his mind to bear—black patches swarmed haphazardly across his vision, a sickening, dizzying feeling of falling, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.

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**Meanwhile**

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The redhead in front of the screen, hair turned a strange greenish color from the diffused blue light, lit another cigarette and lifted it to his lips. Orange goggles flashed as his head flicked back and forth slightly, processing the information on the monitor at lightning speed.

Yeah, he was good at what he did. But that didn't mean he gave a shit about it.

_Apathy_ was definitely a word that described the eccentric, red-haired young man. Stripe-clad arm draped nonchalantly over the back of his chair, fingers still grasping the glowing cigarette, he didn't seem to care at all about his surroundings, his current task, _anything_.

It seemed that way because it was factual.

Mail Jeevas didn't care about anything anymore—he'd kept up with hacking jobs half out of habit, half to distract himself from reality. The reality that Mello, his best and _only_ friend since his days at Wammy's House for Gifted Orphans, since two mere weeks after his parents' death, had left him.

Mail, alias Matt, remembered that day very clearly. Not that he wanted to.

Mello had rushed into their shared room, turbulent as always. Matt was wrong in his assumption that it was about Near, like it usually was. His blonde companion simply hated—_loathed_, in fact—to be one-upped by the pale, white-haired prodigy.

Matt was wrong. But he still wasn't terribly surprised when Mello began flurrying about, a blonde whirlwind, pulling the same plain black bag given to every 'student' recruited to Wammy's. It was the bag that had carried the few belongings Mello brought with him in his first days. He ignored those things now, not that there were many—a ragged album of faded photos, a small silver music box belonging to his mother, a tarnished harmonica—all but the rosary that had belonged to his father—the only thing Matt knew about him was that he had been a priest. Matt had never seen Mello look at it, let along touch it—and now here he was, slinging it around his neck in a hurried fashion.

Matt was unconcerned as yet of this activity because of Mello's constant threats towards Roger, the bumbling, stern overseer of their 'cases,' to 'blow this shithole and never come back.' Matt, like Roger, had never taken these threats seriously before now.

"Dude," Matt said, glancing up from his gaming magazine. "Chill out before Rog freaks."

The blonde didn't stop in his movements, even as he shot a heated glare at the slightly younger redhead. "I don't give a fucking shit what he thinks. I've got to get out of here."

Matt raised an eyebrow at this. "Again?"

Finally, Mello stopped with an extremely exasperated sigh to face Matt, hands on his hips. "I'm serious this time, Matt. I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back."

If it weren't for the unusually quiet, determined tone in the other's voice, there was no way that Matt would have believed him even now. "W-why?" It was all he could think of to say.

"L's dead."

The statement hit Matt like a ton of bricks—almost literally. He went slightly limp, in shock. "W-what? What are you talking about, Mells? This isn't f-funny!"

"I'm not kidding. Roger just told me. And he didn't name a successor—Roger says Near and I have to work together." A sour sneer worked its way over Mello's features despite the grief he was clearly experiencing. "Near agrees, the little shit. But there's no way in hell I'm sticking around to tag-team with that freak. That's why I'm leaving."

Over the initial shock and unexpected wave of sadness that had engulfed him—not that L had ever been _affectionate_ towards Matt, or anyone else for that matter, as far as Matt knew; it was just that L had been an unstoppable force, it seemed, always present in Matt's life; it was hard to believe he was dead—Matt jumped to his next initiative. "I'm coming with you."

"No, Matt." That same quiet, strong voice. Matt hated it.

"Yes, dammit," he argued.

Mello threw his head back and groaned. "Don't you _get it_, Matt? Jeez, you're number fucking three; I thought you would've figured it out by now."

Matt blinked. "Figured what out?"

"I'm not leaving just to get away. I'm going after Kira myself, Matt." The blonde spoke slowly and clearly, enunciating each word to enforce its meaning.

Matt paled. "No. No way, Mells! You'll get yourself killed!"

The other smiled sadly, walking over to where Matt sat, and gently placed a hand on his cheek. "No, I won't. I'm pretty damn smart. Smart as Near, smarter if my emotions don't get in the way. And so are you. That's why I want you to stay here. Keep your head down, don't get hurt. Okay? When this is all over and Kira's dead, I'll come back for you, I promise. Will you wait for me?"

Matt was crying by now. "No, no, Mello, no… Please…" He was begging. It made his pride writhe and shriek, but he couldn't help it. Over the years he'd become addicted to the blonde, depending on him more and more until he was Matt's crutch; the only thing he had left to live for.

"Will you wait for me?" Mello demanded, blue eyes ablaze.

The redhead couldn't answer through his sobbing. When the blonde tried to stand and leave, though, he made his last fraught attempt to keep the other near—he grasped at his arms, clutching with a desperation that spoke plainly of the love and fear in his heart. Catching the blonde off-guard, he managed to pull him down far enough to catch his lips in a fierce kiss. When Mello tried to struggle away, he only pulled harder. Finally the blonde reached up with one hand, tugging Matt's face back with one hand as though to down at him.

The redhead never saw the damp white cloth the other hand held. But suddenly it was pressed to his mouth and nose, cloying his senses in a thick dizziness that swept him down, down, into darkness…

It had been five years since Matt woke up to find Mello gone. Sure, he'd left a note, explaining all the bullshit he'd tried to convince Matt of before drugging him and running away. But that was all—before long, Matt had a new roommate (one he completely ignored; he never spoke at Wammy's again, except to Roger), and when he turned eighteen, he left.

There he was, a brilliant young adult, with no prospects and nowhere to go. So he did the only thing he could think of: he moved to New York. Approximately two hours after his arrival, he had an apartment—a shitty-ass, one-room apartment, but an apartment nonetheless—and was making phone calls to line up jobs. Back at Wammy's, he'd gradually gained connections for hacking missions to keep his mind occupied, and as much as New York City had changed since his brief childhood stint there, it was not nearly enough to keep his mind away from the certain blonde he'd loved and lost.

One year after his arrival in the Big Apple, and he was still in that same apartment, though by now he could have afforded a much nicer residence. Nevertheless, he remained where he was; Matt naturally resisted change, and it helped him to keep a low profile even as a high-profile hacker.

Five years after Mello's departure, he was still nursing the wounds that Mello had left him with; bleeding out, he'd stitched himself back together with the barbed wire of forgetting. Of course Matt could never forget the huge impact his chaotic, beloved blonde had had on his life, but even for a moment, to escape was bliss.

Five years later, and Matt had long ago given up all hope of seeing Mello again when his cell phone suddenly rang.


	2. Chapter 2: Where Are You, Mattie?

**A/N:** Chapter 2! Please review! ('Cause I cared enough to rhyme! That deserves some reward, right??)

The broken blonde laying in the dust swore uncontrollably as he returned to consciousness. It was all he could do to keep from losing it entirely and shrieking as the pain returned, full-force and with a vengeance.

Forcing himself to roll to his back (and not able to contain his low cry of agony this time), the man successfully freed his numb arm, the one that didn't feel like it was submerged in acid. Tingling fingers found the partially melted cell phone that had, against all odds, somehow survived the blast.

Who could he call? Every one of his men was dead, and he had no friends outside of the mafia, except…

Could he call him? Would he even answer?'

**Meanwhile**

For a moment Matt considered just letting it ring. The number was unfamiliar, and truthfully he had more work lined up than even someone with as sharp a mind and as quick hands as Matt could handle at the moment. The memories had been particularly strong lately—probably because it was close to the time of year that Mello had left. In fact—eyes wide with incredulity, he moused over the clock in the bottom-right corner of the screen.

It was the exact date.

Matt wasn't religious—such things had become sort of taboo after Mello left—but he had always been faintly superstitious. He believed in fate.

He answered the phone.

"Yes?"

There was no reply, but Matt could hear something, something like ragged breathing. Believing the call was just a prank, he almost hung up, before he heard a cough. Just a cough, but waves of familiarity washed over him nonetheless.

"Hello?" He said, louder. A few seconds later, he got a response.

"M-Matt?"

The redhead's mouth dropped open, releasing the smoke he'd placed there minutes before. He emitted a sharp yelp as the glowing coal branded his arm on its descent, and he jumped up to stamp the cig out frantically. "_Mello_? Mel? Oh my God, is that you?" His voice held no joy—it was too soon for that. He was in shock—_could it really be true?_—and there was a ball of dread forming in his stomach—Mello's voice, the pause, all of it said something wasn't right…

"Matt… need help."

"Where are you? Mello, _where the fuck are you_?" In his panic, Matt's voice grew louder with each word, as the blonde struggled to answer.

"Don't really know… New York. Warehouse. Trace… call."

Matt's eyes flew open wide. _Of course!_

Leaping back to his computer, his hands moved over the mouse and keyboard with more vigor and speed than they had in years, than they had for any hacking job. Soon enough, he had the blonde's exact location pinpointed, and a printout of the page clutched tightly in his sweaty fist.

"Mello, are you okay? Where have you _been_? What happened?" The rapid-fire questions fell on deaf ears. If he'd had to guess, Matt would have said Mello was delirious, his answers nonsensical and fragmented. He could only speculate why. Moments later, the line went dead. With a harsh, filthy curse, Matt hurled his cell phone into the passenger seat of his car and drove at breakneck speed towards his destination.

As an irrational, languid smile spread across his face—despite the fact that the movement caused agonizing pulling of ruined skin—Mello let his eyes fall shut, indigo night skies replaced with a more comfortable blackness.

Humming a broken, almost-forgotten tune, he tossed his phone in the direction of the low, smoldering flames nearby that continued to press waves of heat over his charbroiled body. "Mattie… ha-ha, where aaaare you, Mattie?" The half-sung, half-sobbed phrase was heard only by the stars before the blonde lost consciousness again.

It took Matt thirty-five minutes to find the place he'd traced Mello's call to, doing half again what was legal limit on the highway.

Matt stepped out of the car, transfixed by what he saw before him, the wheels in his quick mind already whirring away at a furious pace.

The building, charred and still smoldering, had obviously been destroyed. Judging by the relation of the debris to where he concluded the original structure must have stood, it had been via an explosive, too. Most likely from the inside.

Upon coming to these conclusions, the redhead swallowed hard. What condition would his former friend be in when he was found?

If Mello had called _him_, of all people, instead of the police, firefighters, or an ambulance, there was a _very_ high probability that there was something illegal going on here. For this reason, Matt knew he would have to search the wreckage manually for the blonde. Yelling for him, or any other noisy means, would attract far too much attention, even here, out in the middle of nowhere.

The sight of twisted, blackened metal and bone-colored ash coating his dew-wet boots with charcoal-colored sludge, the complete and dead silence other than the continuing, agitated crackle of the dying flames around him, and the _smell _of scorched flesh and hair, not to mention the overall aura of death—all of this made the hair on Matt's arms rise, but far worse were the bodies.

Turning his attention to a corpse lying prone nearby, Matt quickly ascertained that it was indeed _not_ Mello—no blonde hair, and its form was far too big—and turned away from the heap of smoking flesh.

Trying not to gag or vomit, Matt checked roughly twenty bodies—all dead—before a glint, brighter than the dull orange flames, caught his eye from five yards away. It was a body, all right, smaller than most of the others he'd seen. Approaching the supine form cautiously, the redhead dropped to one knee to take a closer look.

The glimmer, he quickly discovered, was thrown off of something that made his breath catch in his throat—a familiar blood-red rosary. Almost automatically, his fingers twisted a bit of hair to inspect—pale gold, cornsilk, beautiful and soft in his memories, but now dirty, tangled, and tattered. Lastly, a pair of vacant blue eyes rolled open at the contact to catch and hold his own with a piercing stare.

"M-Mello?"


	3. Chapter 3: Bath Time

**A/N:** Okey doke, here's chapter numero tres! Done entirely at school. O_O Mostly during piano and geometry.

**Warnings:** Language (lots), some gore, one consumer reference, implied illegal distribution of drugs.

**Disclaimers:** I do **not** own any part of Death Note **or** the CVS Corporation.

Read, enjoy, REVIEW! 

It took Matt all of ten minutes to gather Mello into his arms—as effortlessly as he had back at Wammy's—and carry him as carefully as he could back to his car, deliberating briefly before stretching out the blonde on his back in the backseat.

Save for a grudging hiss of pain as he was grasped and lifted, Mello was unexpectedly silent throughout the whole ordeal. When Matt laid him down in the car, he saw why. The blonde was unconscious again, from the pain Matt surmised.

Still leaning over his friend, Matt took a great, shuddering breath and gazed down at him, appraising his injuries.

Mello was… a mess. There really was no other way to put it. Burns, third and second degree by the looks of them, tracked down the blonde's once-beautiful face, licking raggedly down his neck, and covering his shoulder and a good portion of his chest. _Probably his back, too_… Matt thought with a sigh.

Besides the burns, Mello also had a myriad of comparatively minor bruises and abrasions.

"Fuckin' hell, Mells," Matt said softly.

As he removed himself from the backseat, something rolled under Matt's boot, causing him nearly to slip. Cursing under his breath, Matt squinted downwards, then leaned over to scoop up Mello's rosary. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the fragile strand had broken.

Matt slipped the blood-red beads gently into his jeans pocket.

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"Shit, shit, shit," Matt mumbled. He felt exposed and stupid, two feelings he distinctly despised.

Matt, with his combat boots and orange goggles, definitely stood out at the local CVS.

He had no idea what he was looking for, what he would need. Hell, he'd never _done_ anything like this before!

"Excuse me, young man," a pleasant, slightly timid voice addressed the redhead. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Um…" If Matt hadn't been so desperate, he'd have turned her away in a second. 'Normal people' (Matt inwardly smiled deprecatingly at how little time spent with Mello made him exclude them both from that group) were unsafe. But Mello needed care, and _badly._

"Burn care?" He weakly asked the frail, white-haired woman wearing a green service smock. Her eyes immediately widened in concern.

"Oh, no! Has there been an accident?" "No, no… I mean, yes, but… Friend of mine," Matt said, loath to fabricate a lame story, "had a little accident. Not too bad," he added, appreciative of the distinction between lying and understating.

The woman didn't seem too convinced of Matt's story, but she listed off a near-dozen products she recommended. Matt bought them all, in quantities that alarmed the poor employee all over again.

A few minutes later, Matt returned to the car, tossing the white plastic sack into the passenger seat and glancing worriedly over his shoulder at the still blonde in the backseat.

To his shock, Mello was alert and staring dazedly at the ceiling of the car. "Mello?" Matt breathed. His friend slowly turned pained blue eyes to look at him, breathing shallowly. "Matt," he croaked in reply.

Matt had to swallow hard before driving home.

By the time Matt had safely transported Mello (and his recently-purchased medical supplies) to his fourth-floor apartment, the blonde was out cold yet again. Matt laid him gently upon his own bed without hesitation, then paused, biting his lip. Mello was obviously in terrible pain. That… There was a solution to that, right?

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Twenty minutes later, Matt was back and Mello was awake again. No surprise, their first coherent conversation following their reunion was an argument.

"Mello," Matt persisted, slightly desperate and rapidly losing patience. He held up the clear liquid-filled hypodermic once again. "C'mon, please Mello, it's only going to help."

"No fucking way in hell, Matt," the blonde spat, keeping a livid and suspicious eye on the hand holding the syringe. "That shit fucking messes with my head. No."

Matt sighed. This quarrel had already gone on for far too long, and if he didn't treat Mello's wounds soon they risked infection.

"Fine, dumbass," he snapped finally, angry to give in. "We'd better go to the bathroom. This is going to get messy. Can you stand up?"

Mello let out a soft growling sound and shifted slightly. "… No," he admitted.

Matt sighed again, his earlier irritation melting into pity. Trying to make the transition as painless as possible, he once again carried the blonde.

"Care to tell me what the hell _happened_?" He muttered sarcastically under his breath. No surprise, Mello remained silent.

After ascertaining that the blonde could sit up, Matt placed him on the side of the tub, then leaned over and turned the water on, cool. He stripped his friend—who let out a wounded sort of barking noise as the filthy leather he wore was pulled away from the damaged skin it was scorched to in places.

Finally Matt lowered Mello into the tub, and carefully began working at removing the ash and debris from the blonde's skin. The other wasn't able to contain a few cries of pain, but at least he didn't pass out again.

The pressure of Matt's teeth against his lower lip gradually increased as he worked. Seeing Mello's wounds up close like this, seeing and hearing him in pain… Matt was overwhelmed with guilt and sympathy.

By the time Matt was finished, both were pale. The redhead's hands shook and he desperately wanted a cigarette, but he refused to indulge his vice.

"Okay," Matt breathed as he reached for the plug to let the water, by now a dark, murky grey, drain out of the tub. He didn't bother to get Mello out of the tub yet. He knew he wasn't near done, and that awareness made him faintly queasy.

Rummaging through the white plastic bag, Matt found the bottle of rubbing alcohol. He sighed heavily, lifting his bangs. This was _not_ going to be fun.

Mello sat, chilled and despondent, in the tub. He watched Matt as he looked for something, his body and brain on autopilot as the better half of his awareness was unwillingly focused with razor-sharp intensity upon the blazing pain that seemed to claw at the right half of his body with a ferocity that left his senses reeling.

Dizzy and nauseous from the white-hot anguish, Mello let his head fall back against the porcelain. On top of that godforsaken agony, he was also bone-achingly weary. His consciousness slowly spiraled down into darkness, and he was surprised to feel the cold bite of steel against the inside of his elbow. His eyes flew open, bewildered blue revealed. Mello saw as through a narrow tunnel, everything darkening, dreamlike. Bits and pieces—Matt's apologetic face. His free hand, securing the blonde's shoulder in a firm grip. That damn syringe. Morphine.

"Fuck," Mello swore, and then he wasn't there at all.


	4. Chapter 4: I Said No

**A/N:** Woo-hoo, chapter #4! A bit shorter than I'd like (usually I _try_ to do at least 1,000 words of pure content, A/N not included… but, oh well!)

First, I want to say… this story has gotten a way huger response than I ever would have expected… so to all of my devoted readers and reviewers, thank you SO much… You're amazing!

Truthfully, I am surprised I have gotten this far. Wanna remove uncertainty about later chapters? KEEP REVIEWING. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and motivated. 

**Warnings:** Language, one consumer reference, beginnings of hinted shounen-ai.

Also, warning: EMOTION in this chapter! Like, a lot!

Read, enjoy, **review**. 

"Ungh," Mello groaned out loud. He felt disoriented and nauseated. And his mind was, annoyingly, sort of… fuzzy.

His heavy eyelids slowly lifted when the smell of cigarette smoke hit his nostrils. He saw bright auburn hair… orange goggles upon which something bright and colorful was reflected… and black and red stripes.

It could only be Matt. Duh. Mello squinted slightly and caught sight of the glowing coal of a cigarette dangling between the redhead's lips.

"Since when do _you_ smoke?" Mello asked, voice thick.

"Hey," Matt replied nonchalantly without looking up from his flashing DS.

The blonde saw that he was in a bed, one eye obstructed by white. He looked down, and saw that he was still shirtless, and pristine white bandages were wrapped around the right half his torso. The bandages must have been on his face too—that would, after all, explain the partial blindness he was currently experiencing. He was wearing loose, unfamiliar sweatpants, most likely Matt's.

"I finished cleaning out your burns and cuts and stuff… they were pretty nasty. Then I got some burn ointment and antibacterial stuff on you, and patched you up the best I could," the redhead spoke unexpectedly, and still without looking at him, causing Mello to jump.

Much to Mello's surprise, he saw that a needle had been taped against the back of his hand. Turning his head, he saw that the I.V. line led to a bag of clear fluids attached to the headboard. "Where the fuck did this come from?" His voice was a bit clearer.

"How long have you been working for the mafia, Mello?"

The question caught the blonde wildly off-guard, and after a moment of struggling, he decided it was best not to answer. He couldn't _deny_ it, after all—Matt clearly knew the truth.

Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out Mello's half-destroyed cell phone. "Your 'boys' called this, wondering where the hell you'd gone to. They're lucky I'm the one who answered. I told them what happened to you. _That_ stuff—" here he pointed to the intravenous apparatus—"is thanks to their lovely connections."

"Are you fucking _stupid_?" Mello snarled. "Do you know what could _happen_ to you if you associate with the mob?"

The redhead only laughed. "Duh, Mello. I've done my fair share of work for the mafia too. I'm their most trusted hacker. Besides, you're one to talk. Truth be told, I'm a bit surprised you don't already know this."

Mello was shocked. He opened his mouth, then closed it, rather like a fish. A few seconds later, Matt went back to his game, leaving the blonde free to reach over and begin to peel away the tape, so he could yank the stupid needle out.

Matt turned off his DS, put it in his pocket, then stood up and walked over to where the blonde lay. Grabbing his wrist firmly, he warned him, "Take that out and I swear to God I'll tie you to this bed."

Mello's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Fuck you, Matt. I told you no fucking drugs!"

"Look, dumbass, _you're_ the one who called _me. You_ asked for _my_ help, and if you don't want it, then why don't you just fucking leave?" He paused. "Oh. That's right. You can't, because you were stupid and blew yourself _halfway to hell_. And, fuck, yeah, you were in a hell of a lot of pain, and I tried to fucking _help you_ and this is what I get?"

"You don't know a _damn thing_ about pain, Matt," Mello hissed, eyes afire as he pushed himself up on his elbows, before Matt's hand easily shoved him back down.

Mello had never been afraid of Matt, but he couldn't help but shrink back slightly, eyes widening as the redhead leaned over him, eyes burning with a smoldering, unbridled fury. "_I_ don't know pain? How do you think it felt, Mel, when I had to live through every day at Wammy's and this past year thinking you had fucking left me, forgotten me after you fucking _promised_ you'd come back? I waited, Mel. I waited a long fucking time. Then I stopped waiting. You have no idea how much that hurt. So don't talk to _me_ about pain."

Eyes darkening but losing their searing metallic passion, Matt withdrew, looking down.

This time when the blonde sat up, Matt didn't push him back. When he began to speak, however, the redhead looked up, eyes widening in shock. Were those… _tears_ in Mello's voice?

"You think it didn't hurt me too, Matt? Every day, trying and working so _damn_ hard because I knew the faster I got through this thing, the sooner I'd get back to you? Lying awake and wondering every _damn_ night if you still believed in me, still believed I was coming back, that I was alive, wondering if you even _remembered_ me? Yeah, it hurt, Mattie. And now—and now—" His voice broke on the word 'Mattie,' the old, familiar nickname. Tears finally spilling over, he buried his face in his arms, sobbing unrestrainedly.

Matt didn't know what to do. He'd only ever seen the blonde cry once, and that was his very first day at Wammy's, before they were friends—the very _day_ before they were friends.

Uncomfortable with tears and confused as _hell_ about he felt about Mello at that moment, the redhead slowly approached the blonde, resting an uneasy hand on his quaking shoulder momentarily, to no effect. Then, deciding it was best to allow the blonde to let it all out, he turned and left the room, closing the door quietly—but not before carefully reaching into his pocket to retrieve the rosary and placing it on the comforter.


	5. Chapter 5: Confession

**A/N:** WOW last chap got a gimungo response, and that makes me sooooo happy! How could I not update as quickly as possible after that? I've said it before, I'll say it again, y'all are amazing… OwO

Wow, I'm really just churning out these chappies, aren't I? Well, I hope it's at least _good_. I get bored easily in class and have nothing better to do. *shrugs one shoulder*

**Warnings:** Mild language (I don't think there's a single 'F'-word in here! O_O), hints of shounen-ai, drug references, OOC Mello (sorry).

**Disclaimer:** I do **not** own any part of Death Note. 'Cause if I did, Mikami wouldn't exist. 'Cause he's a freak and frankly he scares me a little bit. *is DeathNote'd by Mikami*

Read, enjoy, **review**. 

Several hours later, Matt returned and, after a moment's hesitation, gently knocked on the door of the room where he'd left Mello. There was no response, but he pushed the door open anyway.

The blonde was lying on his uninjured side, facing away from the door. Matt approached silently to see that Mello was asleep. With the worst of his wounds swathed in bandages, Matt remembered just how _beautiful_ the blonde was while sleeping.

Slumber melted away the constant tension that gripped his delicate features. His lips were slightly open, allowing for the sweet sighing of his breath, in and out.

_Holy crap. What the_ _hell am I _thinking? Matt thought, abruptly taking an automatic step back. He sank down onto the end of the bed, leaning his forehead into his hand.

"What am I _doing_?" He mumbled incoherently into his hand, lapsing into the habit of talking himself through things. _How do I feel about… Mello?_

"I don't know," he sighed, removing his hand from his face and running it roughly through his hair. "I… This is stressful, 'cause it's _him_, after so long, and I'm worried out of my _mind_… But, when he called me, and I heard his voice… pain in the ass that he is, I felt… right. Whole, for the first time since he left."

"Well, that's good to know," a quiet, calm voice rejoined.

Matt gasped and jumped off the bed, causing the blonde on it to bounce slightly.

"I—you—you—" he spluttered, mind spinning wildly for an escape route that wasn't there. Nobody scattered his brain like Mello.

The blonde in question eyed him cautiously, blinking his blue eyes slowly. Despite his relief at what he had just heard, he felt the warmth of a slight blush painting his cheeks, crossing the bridge of his nose.

No such subtlety for Matt—the instant his befuddled brain had worked out that Mello had heard every word he had just said, a flood of heat had colored his entire face in an imitation of his hair. Slumping dejectedly from his rigid pose, he lowered his head in shame and muttered, "How much did you hear?"

"Enough," the blonde replied, still oddly tranquil. "I woke up when you sat down," he clarified when Matt glared at him. This response elicited a groan from the redhead.

"Hey… it's okay," Mello said softly, sitting up slightly. He observed Matt for a moment, and then patted the bed next to him.

Matt acquiesced to the silent request, sitting at the blonde's side. He refused to look at him for shame until he felt a small, very warm hand grip his own tightly, just like when they were young at Wammy's, betraying an edge of desperation.

Matt looked up to find Mello staring intensely at him. "I want… I wanna tell you," he said, "what happened, after I left."

The redhead nodded slightly and waited for the blonde to begin.

After taking a deep breath, he did. "Running away seemed like a really stupid decision early on. I had no money, nowhere to go, no connections. But I couldn't go back—damn pride wouldn't let me." The blonde's lip twisted up into a wry smile.

"So I did the same thing you did. I came here, to New York."

The next admission took a moment. "I started out at the bottom. A lowly, trashy drug dealer. I hated it… knowing that every step I took closer to the top, I was ruining lives. But I never _was_ one to give up, was I?"

The question was rhetorical, but Matt answered it anyway. "No." This earned him another smile from the blonde.

"So… I started slow, yeah. But I moved up. Think I shocked them a little—I'm the first one to ever start out as a dealer and come as far as I have. Think most of 'em get into the drugs and are never heard from again. Dead, from the drugs, or killed, trying to cheat the mob for more. You _don't_ cheat the mob."

"Yeah, I know," Matt murmured, reminding Mello of his own dealings with the mafia.

"Anyway… they liked how I run things. Started granting favors. Gave me a place to live not far from here, started to put men under my command. It wasn't long before I had enough status, enough influence to start my own little 'project.' Kira, of course. Investigation, mainly… methods only the mafia uses. I found out a lot, too—the big heads, bosses up top, you know, well, they started to take interest. All I had to do was show them what was in it for them, and then I had everything. As many men as I need. Transportation any time, anywhere. Enough connections and supplies to start my own branch, more or less."

He seemed to have come to an end of his monologue, until Matt prodded, "What else? Besides the mafia?"

The blonde grew very quiet. "Thought about you… a lot. Early on, before I started investigating Kira, I tried to get tabs on you, but our influence was about the same at the time, believe it or not, so the bosses protected you. Said there was nothing to find on a nobody. Later, when I could've found you in an instant if I'd tried, I was too busy. And, of course, I still believed the lie they'd told."

He paused with a sigh, shaking his head at his own stupidity.

"I missed you. Early on, sometimes I'd hurt so bad I'd be on the brink of calling you. But I knew you'd trace the call in an instant, so I didn't. And then later I'd go for days without thinking about you, then panic when I couldn't remember exactly what your face looked like, or what color your hair was. Little things, too."

Mello smiled strangely. "You've changed… but you're exactly the same."

Oddly enough, this made perfect sense to Matt, probably because he felt the same.

After a moment of rather awkward silence, the redhead coughed and said, "Uh… I guess I'd better change your bandages." This statement caused Mello to stiffen in apprehension, but Matt laid a soothing hand on his unburnt shoulder and said, "Hey… It'll be okay. Just relax."

Shockingly, this time Mello didn't protest when Matt brought out another syringe, this time injecting it into the blonde's intravenous line. Granted, he'd changed the dosage—enough to ease the pain, not enough to knock him out completely.

About fifteen seconds after the morphine hit his bloodstream, the blonde visibly untensed and Matt began. As carefully as he could, he peeled away the old bandages. Under the influence of medication, this caused only a grimace from Mello.

Despite being cleaner, the burns didn't look any different from the last time Matt had seen them. Besides clenching his teeth with a grinding noise and balling his hands into tight fists, the blonde didn't react when the redhead cleaned out the wounds, with hydrogen peroxide instead of alcohol this time. He didn't want to subject his friend to such a harsh antiseptic again.

When the cleaning was over, Mello sighed in relief. The application of various ointments and gels was not nearly as agonizing. Finally, Matt rewrapped Mello's right half with gauze and secured it with white medical tape.

Despite the morphine, Mello was pale, shaking, and exhausted by the time the process was through. After Matt finished putting away the medical supplies, he gently helped the blonde into a fresh pair of sweatpants and eased him under the covers.

"Thanks," Mello rasped, mouth dry, as Matt dropped the blinds and closed the curtains to darken the room.

"Go to sleep, Mells," Matt said softly, awkward again.

"Mkay," Mello said, eyes already closing.

He _thought_ he felt a hesitant hand sweep his hair delicately away from his face before he lost consciousness completely, but he wasn't sure.


	6. Chapter 6: Fortune Cookie

**A/N:** Six cheers for chapter six! :D

This chapter and chapter seven were originally one big long chapter, but I decided to split them. :-D

Anyhoo, this chapter moves a little too quickly (*hides* I'm sorryyyy!), but I'm no good at major reconstruction, so deal with it.

**Warnings:** WHOA. Barely any language in this chapter… weird. Well, be on the lookout for shounen-ai. No homophobes allowed! Oh, and also, unfortunately OOC Mello. *sad* I tried not to…

**Disclaimer: **I do **not** own any part of Death Note. 'Cause if I did, Matt and Mello wouldn't frickin DIE. *cries*

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When Mello awoke, he felt much better. He was also starving. Which was why, fifteen minutes later, he and Matt were sprawled across the bed clutching white cardboard Chinese food containers.

They talked for hours, even after the food was long gone. Matt told Mello what he'd done for the past five years, not that there was much to tell.

When the conversation finally slowed to an awkward lull, Mello blurted out, "Why did you do it? Help me, I mean," he added.

The redhead gazed at him with an amused expression. "Would you have preferred I didn't?" "No, no," Mello said hurriedly. "Of course not. But, you know… after hearing your side of the story…" He raised his head to look Matt in the eye.

"What I did to you was shitty, Matt. I never expected you to help me, let alone _forgive_ me."

"Well, I did," Matt said simply. The blonde looked up, the question still in his eyes.

Matt took a deep breath, and then looked at Mello cautiously. "Okay. I'll tell you. You… still remember what I told you about my parents, right? How I came to be at Wammy's?"

Mello nodded. How could he forget? He had always been very open about his own past, but it had taken him a year to coax the information from the redhead. "Your parents died in a fire," he recited. "You didn't have any relatives, and you were afraid of going with Child Services, so you lived on the streets for almost two months before Roger found you."

Matt nodded, grimacing slightly at the memories. "Right. But there's something I never told you, or anyone really… about that." Mello's eyes widened.

"Our house was in the middle of nowhere. It took them almost a week to find what was left of the house. When they did, I ran off, but until then, I hung out there. With my mom. She… wasn't dead, yet. She was burned, real bad. Worse than you. She screamed night and day, and tried to bite me when I tried to take care of her. I was only ten years old; I couldn't save her. She lived three days."

Mello noticed that Matt's hands had begun to shake, though his voice remained quiet and calm. He reached out to grip both of the redhead's hands in both of his own. Matt looked down at them, his eyes coming back from another time and place.

"So, I guess," the redhead concluded slowly, "in some sick, twisted way, I think that saving you will somehow make up for not saving her."

"Matt… I'm so sorry. It wasn't your fault, you know."

"Yeah, I know." The redhead shrugged, successfully burying the pain in the depth of his green eyes.

The silence stretched on, until finally, as a surprise Matt produced a chocolate bar identical to the hundreds he'd watched the blonde munch on over their years of friendship. Through Mello's whispered thanks it was discernable that he was deeply moved by the gesture. After unwrapping it carefully, he snapped off a square and placed it on his tongue, closing his eyes and sucking gently, savoring the sweet flavor.

His eyes flew open when he was struck lightly in the chest with something small. He glanced down at the missile as it landed in his lap. Matt sat across from him, a playful glint in his eyes as he unwrapped an identical fortune cookie. As soon as he had worked the wrapper off, he broke open the cookie and tossed it aside to be forgotten, unfurling the small slip of white paper in his hand.

"'Reach for the stars,'" he read out loud, rolling his eyes as he tossed the fortune aside, and then rolled onto his back. After a moment he gazed upside down at Mello, who was sitting still with the wrapped cookie in his hand.

"Go on," he encouraged. "Open it."

Shaking his head, Mello placed the cookie on the comforter next to him. "I don't really feel like it," he mumbled.

"Please?" Matt implored, scrambling upright to look the blonde properly in the eye. "C'mon, it's fun," he said, pulling a cute face.

Finally Mello gave in, rolling his eyes as he snatched up the cookie and tore it open dexterously. There was no way he could possibly resist those big, soft, pleading puppy dog eyes of Matt's.

As soon as he had freed the fortune, he turned it over and read it silently. Then, without a word, he promptly tore it to pieces, to the redhead's openmouthed astonishment. Mello looked as though he might cry again. But he didn't. Instead he drew his knees up and hugged them tightly, resting his chin on them.

Matt hesitantly moved closer to the blonde, and then carefully wrapped his arms around him, gently pulling him into his chest. To his surprise, Mello allowed himself to be hugged, resting his head against the redhead's collarbone.

They remained like that for several minutes before Matt ventured, "What did it say?" The blonde was silent for a moment before saying in a soft and bitter voice, "'You are beautiful and loved.'" "Oh," the redhead sighed, and then paused to gather his thoughts.

Finally, he simply turned his body slightly to face Mello head-on. After the last change of bandages, he hadn't bothered to recover the burns on the blonde's face, as they were the least severe of his injuries. Without warning, he reached out to cup the scarred half of Mello's face with one hand.

Mello gasped at the contact. The friction between the ridged scar tissue of his face and Matt's surprisingly warm hand caused him no pain, but he instinctively wanted to flinch away, to shrink back and hide his face from Matt's perfect green eyes. If it had been anyone else, he _would_ have. Instead, he just closed his eyes, breathing shallowly and willing himself not to cry again.

His eyes flew open in complete and total shock when he felt Matt's hand replaced by something much softer. The redhead trailed feather-light kisses down the side of Mello's face, continuing down his neck and shoulder before he finally pulled away. By that time Mello's cerulean eyes were veiled by a light shimmer of tears, remnants of some unknown emotion. He let out his breath in a loud, shuddery sigh.

"You _are_ beautiful, you know. Scars or no. And I love you." Matt whispered, gazing smokily out from underneath his bangs. Mello shook his head. The emotions rushing through him were too big, too complex for him to sort out exhausted and brain muddled by morphine.

"Please," Mello mumbled, not looking at the redhead. "I can't… Can we just sleep?" He pleaded.

"Of course," Matt murmured, eyes softening. "Let me help you…" And he arranged his companion carefully beneath the blankets, minding his injuries.

"Matt," the blonde mumbled agitatedly, keeping an obstinate grip on his hand.

"Mhm?" The redhead stood over him raising his free hand to brush Mello's hair away from his face without hesitation this time.

"Stay with me," the blonde all but begged. "Been having nightmares. 'M scared. Please."

Matt's eyes widened at the unexpected request, but he immediately moved to obey. Quickly he removed his shirt, tossed it into a corner, and slid into the bed behind Mello, embracing the blonde once more. Said blonde sighed and released his tense muscles, finally peaceful and contented.

"This is a lot like back at Wammy's," Matt commented, nuzzling his face around Mello's neck to rest his chin on the other's shoulder. "Mm," Mello sighed in agreement. "'Cept… we're a lot bigger now." "True. But this bed is bigger than the ones at Wammy's." "Yeah, I guess that's right." "Yup. It is." "Matt?" "Yes, Mello?" "I want to sleep now." "Oh. Okay. Good night, Mells." "G'night, Mattie."

Quickly lost to the shadowy world of dreams, the blonde didn't hear Matt's murmured repetition of his earlier declaration. "I love you, Mihael."


	7. Chapter 7: Just Slipped Out

**A/N:** Well, it's only been, what, four or five days since I last posted a chap? But it feels like a long time. XD

Yay, chapter seven! Written last week, edited today. D'you like it? (I don't, it's a bit too short DX) **Tell me.**

**Surprise **this chapter! Sorry, no lemon (… yet XD). Soon, I promise… maybe.

**Warnings:** Language, yaoi, OOC Mello.

**Disclaimer:** I do **not** own **any** part of Death Note. 'Cause if I did, there woulda been a major Misa/Takada bitchfight. Not just verbal, either. I'm talking all-out violence.

Mello slept for a long time. Naturally not needing much sleep, Matt had risen about four hours after falling asleep holding the blonde. He was sure the other was just fine, but he felt anxious not seeing the blonde awake for so long, a personal reaction.

_He's healing, after all_, Matt thought as he bustled uncharacteristically around the apartment, cleaning it up. _Besides, it's not like anyone ever died from sleeping too long._

Much to Matt's surprise, he found the blonde awake, dressed in one of Matt's old overlong band tee shirts. He was seated on the couch, knees drawn up and looking adorably forlorn.

Matt felt guilty for not leaving a note, but in truth he'd only run up to the corner store to buy cigarettes, chocolate, and Red Bull and hadn't expected him to awaken in his absence. He handed the blonde a bar of chocolate as a peace offering, which was accepted with an enthusiastic thank-you.

He looked even more adorable now, cheeks (well, cheek) flushed with happiness and smiling his wonderful smile, the one that made Matt feel like the sun was shining only on him… until the smile melted into a look of confusion. "Uh, Matt?"

"Whoa." The redhead jumped slightly and shook his head to clear it as he was snapped out of his trance. "Sorry, Mells."

"S'okay," said the blonde. "Just… what were you staring at?"

"You," Matt replied bluntly, then panicked when he saw Mello's face contract painfully and color in shame. Almost tripping over his words, he rushed out, "No, no! Not like _that_! I mean… it's just… a second ago, when you were smiling and all, you looked… um… you looked really cute, is all," Matt's voice gradually dwindled down into a mortified mumble as he blushed in an imitation of the blonde moments ago.

When he had gathered the shattered remnants of his pride moments later, he cautiously glanced up to gauge Mello's reaction to his confession.

The blonde simply stared at him for a few moments before bursting into laughter. Relieved beyond words, Matt laughed along with him.

When finally they were able to contain the last few residual giggles and catch their breath, Mello asked, "Were you serious? You really think I'm… _cute_? Even with this?" He added, pointing to the damaged side of his face incredulously when Matt nodded fervently. "I don't even really… see it," the redhead explained earnestly, while the blonde blushed pink.

"See, you're even cuter like that," Matt told him, brushing his fingertips lightly across the other's cheekbone to make his point. Mello looked embarrassed, and reached up to grab the redhead's hand.

Matt expected for the other to push it away, but to his great surprise, and pleasure, he lowered it to his mouth to trail careful kisses down each finger and all over the palm. The redhead sighed audibly at the gratifying sensation, never breaking eye contact with Mello.

Finally, Matt couldn't take it anymore and snatched his hand away, causing hurt to flash in the blonde's blue eyes for just the barest instant before the redhead's stripe-clad arms were enfolded tightly around his slender waist, dragging him into the other.

And all thoughts were blasted into oblivion as Matt's lips covered his, kissing him with enough intensity to make Mello's muscles go limp and rubbery and take his breath away. Enough intensity to, after the initial shock wore off, make him slide his eyes shut and loop his arms around the redhead's neck, toying with a few of the fiery locks that hung there.

And Mello most certainly wasn't the only one enjoying the kiss, either. An animal instinct and an overwhelming, velvety heat had encased Matt, obliterating all logical thought. As the kiss escalated into something rougher and more passionate, if Mello purred, Matt growled. And when the redhead's impatient tongue swept almost hesitantly over his lower lip, the blonde instantly submitted, granting the other access, adding tongues to the mix. Their tongues danced a graceful, elaborate dance, with Matt leading.

There was no fight for dominance, which surprised both of them. Had it been anyone else, Mello would've fought without a doubt—and won. But, shit, Matt… Matt was just too damn _good_.

Both of them instinctively knew when the kiss needed to come to an end, and it wound down slowly, ending on a distinctly sweet note when the redhead reluctantly disengaged, only to give in to temptation and gently press his lips back to Mello's in a chaste caress once… twice… three times.

And the words, the ones that had coiled in Mello's stomach for days, no doubt stirred up from kissing, rose before he had time to edit them. "I love you, too."


	8. Chapter 8: An Ultimatum Or Two

**A/N:** OMG, chapter 8!! Lots of emotion this chap, more IC Mello (liek yayz n stawf!)… So, yeah. Read, enjoy, **review**.

**Warnings:** Language, yaoi, slight gory moment (past-tense description of injury).

**Disclaimer:** I do **not** own **any** part of Death Note. 'Cause, if I did, L's clothes wouldn't have been quite so less-than-revealing. XD

After that kiss, it became clear that Mello no longer knew quite what to do with himself. He became more withdrawn than usual, and acted awkward whenever Matt was near him. He spent more time in solitude than he had in years.

The burns marring the right half of his body, however, were drastically improving. What were once raw, oozing wounds were now pink, shiny, and tough with scar tissue. Mello's attitude towards them had not improved, but he seemed to have accepted them more since Matt had reassured him that they didn't matter to him, not at all, a development which pleased and relieved the redhead.

The strangest change in the blonde's behavior of all was the phone calls. Mello would disappear for up to an hour at a time with Matt's cell phone as his hostage. The redhead had agreeably allowed him to borrow it (after the blonde did something to it that, as he rather enigmatically put it, "made it safe" for use) when his own abused phone finally submitted to the damage and died.

On one particular uneventful evening, after an unusually long and tense conversation with his unnamed cohorts, Mello emerged from the bedroom to meet Matt's eyes for the first time in what felt like weeks.

"We can't stay here," he announced, voice quiet and calm, yet holding the barest hint of unsettlement.

"Why not?" Matt replied mechanically as he paused his video game. He slowly put his controller down, keeping his expression relaxed, his body language open, and his tone neutral in the hope of not making the blonde uncomfortable again.

Mello sighed and launched into a detailed explanation. "That was my bo—well, I guess now my _equal_—on the phone just now. Thanks for letting me use yours, by the way. I should be issued a new one as soon as I get back, so—"

"Pause. And rewind," the redhead interrupted him, sitting up straighter on the couch and giving the blonde a look that was apprehensive and slightly dazed. "As soon as you _get back_? What does that _mean_, Mello?"

"To the mafia, of course," the blonde stated as if this should have been painfully obvious to the other.

"Wait, Mells. Hold up. You—you fucking _blew yourself up_. And now, here you're talking about _going back_ _to that_?" Matt was utterly incredulous.

Mello took a step towards him, and took his hand, eyes softening. "Yes, of course, Matt. I have to." Matt hated the other's use of the last phrase but didn't interrupt him again. The blonde took a deep breath and squeezed the other's hand lightly before continuing.

"I have to keep my promise and avenge L. I have to put an end to Kira. I have to. And the reason we can't stay here is because not… _all_ of my men were killed in that explosion, like I thought." At this, the blonde looked slightly annoyed with himself, as he always did when one of his conclusions was proved false. "One of them called a few minutes ago. Captured, obviously. Whoever's got him was trying to trace the call, so I kept it quick, naturally."

"Since I don't know who it was who got him," the blonde's hands clenched in obvious frustration over this fact, "I don't know how far they'll go to get information out of him." The redhead winced at this, but Mello ignored it. "Or how long before he cracks. So, any information he had access to is now, as far as the mob is concerned, public knowledge. And believe it or not, the mafia knows where to find you, Matt. The call is another weakness. The only hacker I know of who can track a cell phone with that kind of a security on it that quickly is sitting in this room, but I don't want to be taking _any_ chances on this. This is serious shit, Matt. We can't be safe here."

At the conclusion of this discomforting little speech, Matt's shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily. Moving was a big pain in the ass, especially with all the electronics he owned. He didn't trust movers, as most of the components were exceedingly delicate, for one thing. Those had to be shipped specially. Then, it had taken him more than three months to wire the place, especially when considering that he was being careful to avoid detection.

"We need to leave within three days," Mello's voice brought the redhead back from his lamentations. As soon as his brain worked out what the other had said, his eyes widened. It would take him nearly that long to collapse all of the equipment and remove the wiring. With circuitry that sophisticated, he couldn't risk someone getting suspicious. "So soon?" He asked lightly. "There's a lot to do, you know. I have to undo all the extra wiring in here, find a new place—"

"The mafia will give me a new place," Mello interrupted him. "But you're not coming with me. You're going back to England."

"_What_?!" Matt yelped.

"Yes," the blonde insisted ruthlessly.

"No way," Matt retorted. He yanked his hand away from Mello's, standing up abruptly and pacing away from him. He was beginning to panic. "I can't fucking believe I just… 'I love you'… and you fucking said it back!" The redhead was rapidly losing his ability to speak properly in his anger.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" The blonde yelled, finally losing his legendary temper.

"Did you even fucking mean it?" Matt was close to humiliating, unwanted tears at the moment, and that fact only fueled his fury.

Mello stalked closer, got in Matt's face. "Of course I meant it, dumbass! Why _else_ would I send you all the way fucking back?"

Matt was on emotional overload as it was, and adding that confusing statement to the mix just knocked it all out of him. Drooping weakly from his former defensive stance, the redhead said faintly, "I don't know what you mean."

Rapidly and in a harsh, low voice, Mello said, "Fucking duh, Matt. Don't you even realize how _dangerous_ this is? This is fucking Kira. And although you may want to avenge L, you can't say you really give a damn about whether Kira stays in power or not. But I do. That's why _I'm_ here. I _care_ about this, and I also care about you. And since _I _actually understand just how dangerous this is out here, I'm sending you away. I won't have you in the crosshairs, Matt."

Matt couldn't speak. His hands and feet were numb. So without a word, he turned and walked away from Mello. He went out of the apartment, down the stairs, and to where his car was parked.

Two hours and many gallons of gasoline later, the redhead was in exactly the same place where he had started. The drive had helped to clear his mind, just like it always did. Of course, the half-dozen cigarettes he'd also smoked in that time didn't hurt, either.

He softly opened to the door to the darkened apartment, and the sliver of light falling through the doorway glinted off something golden in the corner of his eye. Mello.

Matt turned to see, for just the smallest fraction of a second, the most miserably and pained expression he had ever beheld on his friend's face. Then it hardened into the mask it had retained for the past five years. But Matt had seen the other side, and it said enough.

No thoughts, only instinct flowed through the redhead as he swiftly approached his friend, grabbing him roughly and dominating him in a passionate kiss that stole breath and betrayed and edge of desperation in them both.

When at last he pulled away, Matt did not release Mello, only leaned in to speak directly into the other's ear. In a harsh, breathless voice, he whispered, "I'm coming with you. And there's nothing you can do about it."


	9. Chapter 9: Agreements and Promises

**(Unusually long) A/N:** Yay, I wrote another one! 8D Chapter nine is GOOOO! Written in English III Honors, Geometry, and ACT/SAT Pre: Math; edited in Piano.

I was actually pretty pleased with this chapter, and the last one—I like that apparently I can have emotion _and_ plot, so it's adding depth to my characters (well, not _my_ characters, just my interpretation of them, but still) _and_ my plot. Not crazy 'bout the title for this one, though. Got any better ideas? Let me know!

So… yeah! Read, enjoy, **review.** It makes your author super-happy! :-) But flames are mean. You're not mean, are you?

**Warnings:** mild language, shounen-ai.

**Disclaimers:** I do **not** own **any** part of Death Note. 'Cause, if I did, I would have one episode/chapter dedicated entirely to a game of Jenga between the Wammy boys. Why, you ask? Because it'd be frickin' hilarious, that's why.

I also do **not** own **any **part of the band Hinder, or the song, "Better Than Me."

**Side Note: **I shall be posting a new poll soon, probably tomorrow morning if I don't get to it tonight, so please be on the lookout for that! Twenty votes gets you a **FREE** (heh) **lemon** within the next four chapters (my first EVER! I'm a bit nervous… O_O PM me if you have any tips! OwO)! 8D

_I'm coming with you. And there's nothing you can do about it._

Mello didn't know whether it was the unfamiliar feeling of being completely and willingly dominated in a kiss like that, or the result of his own humiliating weakness, but he immediately and simply replied to the redhead's adamant statement, "Okay."

Matt blinked. He had known from the start that he was going to win eventually—there was, quite simply put, _no fucking way_ he was going to back down and let the blonde leave him _again_, but still… Shit, he definitely had not expected for it to be _that_ easy. "Okay?" He said incredulously, pulling the other closer in relief regardless.

"Yeah," the blonde sighed, relaxing against the other. "I can't… let you go." He paused uncomfortably, twisting his fingers where they had affixed themselves in Matt's shirt. "I guess I'm selfish. I want you here, with me, regardless of the danger it puts you in. And seeing as it's what you want…" The redhead felt him shrug.

He buried his face in the other's neck, inhaling deeply. "Thank you," he breathed. "I'm so glad… you decided that. I was prepared to follow you anyways, no matter what you said." He smiled. "But that would… really suck, you know? It's good to know you _want_ me here."

"Yeah," the blonde sighed again, wrapping his arms more securely around Matt's shoulders. "I do."

This time it was he who initiated the kiss, so it was different. And it was not at all what the redhead expected from Mello. It was sweet and innocent, even when he again allowed the other to explore his mouth. In response, Matt reciprocated the tenderness.

Approximately two minutes later, the two were lying in Matt's bed again, Mello's back to Matt's front. Matt was slowly dragging his nimble fingers through the other's once-again silky blonde locks. After more than a decade of gaming, the redhead was good with his hands, and Mello sighed in drowsy pleasure, snuggling close to the other.

Half out of curiosity as to the other's response, Matt whispered, "I love you."

Much to his surprise, Mello wiggled around in his arms, turning so that he was facing the redhead. He did not look quite so sleepy now. His blue eyes were as shockingly alive as ever as they pierced Matt through. "I love you too." He hesitated then, glancing away and biting his lip. "That's why… it was hard, you know, to tell you to leave. Of course I want you, here, it's just… I'm so worried for you… And when you left, just like that, I was _so scared_ that you were really leaving for good."

"Shh, shh," Matt soothed the other's shockingly candid confessions with a gentle embrace and even gentler lips. Mello accepted the kiss but did not respond much to it.

Mello was shocked when he felt Matt's lips brush his ear, and softly he heard the lyrics to some old Hinder song. Was Matt… _singing_ to him? Apparently he was, and the blonde could hear the smile in his voice. "_I really miss your hair in my face… and the way your innocence tastes… and I think you should know this—you deserve much better than me_." His voice was not great, but he could carry a tune just fine.

"That's my line," Mello reminded him, tears he refused to let spill over welling uselessly in his eyes.

When the redhead pulled away he saw the same haunted, tortured look in the other's eyes. "Tell me what I can do," he half-begged in a slightly choked whisper, releasing the blonde's body in favor of cupping both sides of his face and tilting it up towards his own.

"I've been so afraid of losing you so many times," Mello answered, "I'm almost afraid to look away from you now. Would you… just, please, Matt?" He extended his arms, making the action a request.

Matt didn't answer out loud, just secured the blonde to his own body and released a long, shuddery breath into his hair. "I'll never let you go, you know," he said, his voice still slightly roughened with emotion. "You'll have to kill me first."

"Is that a _threat_, Mattie?" Mello asked, laughing softly.

Much relieved by the turn of the mood, Matt reached up to lightly tousle the other's flaxen tresses. "Nope, Mells, that's a promise," he affirmed.


	10. Chapter 10: Such A Nerd

**A/N:** Chapter 10, chicas! *does a happy little dance* My compy just recovered from a nasty virus, but did I let _that_ slow me down?... Of course not!

Not too much conflict/plot in this chappie, but it's good for character development. *shrugs* Nice fluffy chapter for ya! Written in Spanish II and Geometry; edited in SAT/ACT Prep: Math.

Read, enjoy, **review**. :-)

**Warnings:** Mild language, shounen-ai.

**Disclaimers:** I do **not** own **any** part of Death Note. 'Cause, if I did, at some point Mello would sic a sheepdog on Near… Get it, 'cause he looks like a sheep?... Yeah, I know that was a lame joke. Get over it. It was _supposed_ to be lame.

**Side Note:** There's an **Easter egg** hidden in this chapter! I'll give you a **hint:** pay attention to **numbers**. **Reward:** first person to find it (send me a PM **or** post it in a review!) will receive a one-shot involving the DN couple of their choice (within reason). Hurry up, before someone else finds it! 8D

The next morning after breakfast and a quick shower, Mello brought Matt to his apartment to pick up his few belongings. They decided that Matt would live in the residence that Mello was to be provided with, but that that arrangement would be kept a secret.

Mello let the redhead drive because he did not know how to work a stick shift, but soon realized the bonus to this: Matt looked sexy while he was driving. One arm draped carelessly over the wheel of the burgundy muscle car that matched his hair, the other laid lightly around the blonde's shoulders, an unlit cigarette (he had quickly realized Mello's distaste for the habit, and resolved to indulge his vice in his presence as little as possible) dangling precariously from his rather tempting-looking lips, his hair glistening as it was mussed by the cool but sun-kissed air coming in through the open window… Oh, yes, definitely.

In order to keep himself from ogling the man that he had thought of as nothing more than his best friend for years, Mello occupied himself with considering the meager scenery flashing past his window faster than the legal speed limit.

The short drive there was comfortably quiet save for Mello's directions and the husky growl of the engine within the powerful car that Matt drove with confidence.

When the pair finally pulled into the parking lot of a respectable, but generic apartment complex, the blonde quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out, then leaned back into the car and said, "I'll only be a minute. You can come if you want to," he added casually over his shoulder. The redhead hesitated only for a moment before following. When he heard the other's car door slam, the blonde turned back briefly, a teasing smirk stretching across his face.

_Damn_, Matt thought as the pair ascended the deserted stairs. _He has got _great _hips_. "Stop checking me out," Mello admonished the redhead in a bored tone without turning around. _Holy crap_, Matt grumbled internally. _How did he _do_ that?_ "Easy. I could feel your big, perverted eyes all over me," the blonde answered his thought with a laugh.

This half-of-a-conversation was interrupted by their arrival at Mello's apartment, number 1213. Mello pulled a shiny silver key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, pulling Matt inside by his color and kissing him, harder than before. As his arms subconsciously wound tightly around the eager blonde against him, the redhead kicked the door shut behind them and skillfully maneuvered the other against the off-white wall opposite the door. One hand twisted into Mello's hair and the other sliding down to hook curious, teasing fingers through one of Mello's belt loops, Matt pinned those slender, curvy hips to the wall with his own. "Mm-whoa," the blonde moaned against the redhead's feverishly insistent lips.

Despite his weak-as-water will screaming at him to continue, Matt knew that now wasn't exactly the time. "M-maybe—_hahh_—maybe we'd better stop," he asserted breathlessly, pulling away reluctantly. Mello made an endearing little whining noise in protest and tried in vain to keep him there, but Matt easily caught his restraining hands and used them like a leash to pull the unwilling blonde further into the apartment.

Though only slightly larger than his own, it was definitely nicer, Matt quickly decided. He examined the rooms as Mello, now back on task though still slightly flushed, hurried around, cramming clothes and other belongings into a large black duffel bag. The rooms were all sort of blank-feeling, and there wasn't much furniture, like a hotel room. Compared to his own cluttered, messy space, the place hardly looked lived in.

Interrupted from these thoughts, Matt jumped violently when a certain mischievous blonde crept up silently behind him and grabbed him. Turning quickly, he tackled the other and replaced his smug chuckles with giggly shrieks, tickling his ribs mercilessly.

"Uncle, uncle!" Mello finally gave in, face bright red and eyes watering. This was uncharacteristic of him, but as always, something in Matt disarmed him, brought him down to a more human level. He was not as reckless, and he found that he _liked_ being taken care of.

Matt helped him up and, still laughing, asked him if he was ready to go. "Yup," Mello replied, pointing to his back, packed and ready and sitting next to the front door. "Alright," the redhead nodded, "let's go."

The pair left the apartment and, after Mello dropped off the key, left the building, got into the car, and drove back to Matt's place, where Mello began to help Matt pack.  
"Damn, Matt," the blonde bellowed from Matt's room (the redhead was currently sitting in the living room surrounded by dozens of components), "why do you have so much _junk_?" Seconds later, the blonde appeared in the doorway, laden heavily with an armload of clothes. "And don't you ever wear anything besides stripes?"

"Don't you ever wear anything besides leather?" The redhead replied automatically without looking up. This was a fair argument. The blonde had complained more than once about wearing Matt's clothes, and had scrambled into the tight, revealing material he had packed as soon as they arrived back at Matt's apartment, a fact that sped the redhead's heartbeat just by _looking_ at him.

"Yeah, but the leather's hot and you know it," the blonde said with a smirk. "Well, I like stripes," Matt replied, reaching up to adjust his orange goggles before turning his attention back to the delicate bits of machinery in front of him.

"God, Matt, _Mario_ boxers? Are you _serious_?" Mello made a face as he lifted the offending garment he had dug out of the pile of laundry between thumb and forefinger before slingshotting them playfully at Matt. "Yup," the redhead replied unabashedly, dodging the flying underwear.

"Such a nerd," the blonde chuckled affectionately.

"Yeah, well," Matt offered along with the easy, lopsided grin he knew the other loved, "you love this nerd, and you know it." Mello laughed. "True," he conceded amusedly, leaning in for a kiss.


	11. Chapter 11: Overture

**A/N:** Well, here it is, Chapter 11. I really hope you like it (oh, and don't forget to tell me if and why you did!)! Written in Geometry and Español II, edited in Español II.

Also, my contest from last chapter was won by xxbeyondxbirthdayxx! Congratulations! They will be receiving a one-shot of at least one thousand words about the DN pairing of their choice! That should be up sometime within the next week, so be on the lookout!

**Warnings:** Mild language, shounen-ai (suggestive material). (I _will_ be writing my first lemon next chapter. **Tips, please?**)

**Disclaimer:** I do **not** own **any** part of Death Note. 'Cause, if I did, at some point Ryuk would go trick-or-treating. XD

**Side Note:** Yes, the new apartment number is Matt's birthday. I didn't bother to make it a contest because after the last one it'd be a bit obvious.

Oh, and yes, Matt's eyes _are_ blue. I know most fanfictions (including one of mine XD) describe them as green, but I read it in the How To Read edition of the manga, and it's in his character bio online. My idea was that Matt's eyes are darker than Mello's (I figure Mello's are naturally a very bright blue that can look "icy" when he's mad), more of a cobalt-ish or even a teal color, and appear darker when experiencing strong emotions.

Okay! Read it, enjoy it, **review it**.

Mello slowly blinked his way back to consciousness, and then he smiled. He was lying in Matt's bed, in Matt's _arms_ to be more exact. Their legs were entangled, and the other's arms were wrapped protectively around his warm body. The glowing red numbers of the digital clock that resided on the nearby nightstand declared that it was 7:01 A.M.

Overwhelmed by a sudden and irresistible desire to see the redhead's face, the blonde managed to wiggle around just slightly without waking the other up. As soon as Matt's face came properly into view, Mello let out a quiet sigh of relief. He studied the sleeping redhead's face in contentment.

_Matt looks older_, he thought with mild surprise. This much was true. His face was now free of all baby fat, angles hardened into a more mature, chiseled look. Mello hadn't noticed these subtle changes before because when the redhead was awake, and his countenance animated with emotion, the blonde still saw the quietly hopeful child of Wammy's.

Said child of Wammy's was now waking up, dark blue eyes (for once not veiled behind the orange plastic of those damned goggles) focusing gradually. It wasn't long before those eyes found the still-staring Mello.

"Hey," the redhead managed thickly through a wide yawn. Mello chuckled. "Hey, sleepy-head," he said softly, reaching up to muss Matt's hair. The redhead caught the small hand and brought it to his mouth, gracing the surprisingly soft skin with tiny, sweet kisses all over.

The blonde sighed at the pleasurable sensation, allowing Matt to continue in his attentions all the way up his arm before murmuring, "We'd better get up." "No," the redhead growled, words muffled against the blonde's collarbone. "Just a little while longer." Mello found that he just didn't have the will to refuse.

And so, thirty minutes of snuggling and sweet words later, the pair got up for the day. Matt hopped in the shower while Mello cooked breakfast for them both. He had quickly realized the redhead's hopeless culinary abilities (or, more to the point, lack thereof) and forcibly assigned himself to mess hall detail as soon as he had recovered enough to hobble around the little-used kitchen.

The omelets were nearly done cooking when Matt loped into the kitchen, dressed in his normal attire, his goggles hanging around his neck and his hair still wet enough to leave dark, damp spots on his collar. Except that his black-and-red striped tee shirt was slightly tighter than usual, hinting at pecs and biceps and abs that were surprisingly well-developed for such a hardcore gamer. And his dark-wash jeans were slung low on his hips, revealing but an inch of smooth bare skin… Mello had to swallow hard before turning back to the cast-iron skillet on the stove.

He yelped, discovering his creations done and about to start burning. He snatched up a spatula, and found Matt at his elbow, holding two plates patiently at the ready.

"Thanks," Mello blurted, hurriedly scooping their omelets out of the hot pan. Matt's proximity had him fumbling again, and his eyes acted like two cobalt-blue magnets—it was difficult for Mello to tear his own away from them for any length of time. His mouth, too, apparently had grown a mind of its own, and currently wouldn't stop babbling. "I-I just… got—distra—ow, shit!"

He whimpered sharply in pain as he burned his hand against the side of the pan. The next thing he knew, they were standing by the sink, and Matt was holding his hand firmly beneath the cold water running out of the faucet. The blonde whined softly in pain as, after a few moments, the redhead pulled his hand out of the sink to examine it. "Not too bad," he murmured as he contemplated it. "But still…"

Mello's eyes shot open wide in surprise when Matt picked him up easily, lifting him to sit on the kitchen counter, like a child. Then he plunged into a nearby cabinet and dug out a small red-and-white first aid kit. Mello would have stopped him—his hand didn't really hurt so much anymore, and anyways it was _fine_—but it was hard because it was simply _so nice_ to have someone taking care of him for once, especially since that someone happened to be Matt. Also, he secretly loved the feeling he received from seeing the redhead with such concern and tenderness in his eyes.

So, unnecessary though it was, he quietly allowed Matt to dab on some sort of clear gel—wincing; it stung a bit—and carefully cover the injury with a large, square Band-Aid. When he was done, the redhead simply cradled the affected hand in both of his own for a moment, gazing at it, and then kissed it gently. Then he looked up at Mello and asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah," the blonde replied, hopping down from his perch on the counter quickly and diving into Matt's arms, hugging him tightly around the waist and burying his face against the other's chest. The redhead was surprised by the blonde's sudden affections, but quickly recovered his composure and kissed the top of Mello's head.

"C'mon, let's eat breakfast," he said with a chuckle. "Or else the food will get cold and all your hard work will go to waste." So the pair sat down at Matt's tiny kitchen table and ate.

When they were done, the redhead smiled sweetly and said, "That was great, Mells. Thanks," and leaned across for a thank-you kiss. "Ew," Mello complained after a moment. "You taste like onions."

Matt laughed. "Okay, then," he replied easily. "I'll go brush my teeth."

"Nope." The blonde jumped up from his seat, grinning. "I've still got to shower, remember?"

"After you shower, then," Matt amended after him, and then stood to collect the dishes and wash them quickly before drying them and placing them in the cardboard box Mello had helpfully labeled, "Kitchen shit," in black Sharpie. Thanks a lot, Mells.

After a few last-minute arrangements, Matt carried the last few boxes of necessities down to his care, then left his rental key at the front desk in the lobby along with the instructions for the movers who were to pick up and deliver his computing equipment. These were boxed and stacked neatly in the front hall back in the apartment, all proudly bearing their yellow "Fragile" stickers.

By the time Matt was done tying these loose ends up, Mello was ready to go. So the two got into the redhead's car, where Mello made a brief phone call. After he hung up, he provided Matt with careful, specific directions. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at an apartment complex similar to the one where the blonde had previously resided.

They entered and Mello rattled off an unfamiliar last name to the professional-looking receptionist behind the black lacquer front desk. She handed him a sealed, unmarked manila envelope, which he opened as soon as they were out of her sight.

Inside was a white page of typed information, and a gleaming silver key. After quickly scanning it, Mello folded the paper into fourths and put it in his pocket. He led Matt towards the elevators. "Twenty-one," was all he said, and pressed the corresponding button once they were inside. This took them to the top floor, which they both quickly realized was the penthouse. Matt was amazed. Mello said simply, "I've moved up in the ranks."

The place was easily the size of both of their old apartments combined, and luxuriously appointed. Ever the cool one, Mello calmly began to unpack, starting in the kitchen.

Matt, on the other hand, could not contain himself. Like a small child on Christmas morning, he veritably ran from room to room, unable to rein in his enthusiasm—or his gasps. Everything seemed to amaze him anew—the massive black leather couch, glass coffee table, and 50-inch LCD TV in the living room; the black marble countertops and enormous stainless steel refrigerator in the kitchen; the seemingly endless rooms and spaces… finally he came to a halt, while passing Mello for what had to be at least the fourth time, and stared at the blonde. "Dude," he said, voice still bubbling with vivacity. "_Why _aren't you excited?"

"Oh, I am," Mello said without looking up, smiling slightly. "Well, you aren't _acting_ like it," Matt said, impatient but still as good-natured as always. "Well, I'm busy."

"Oh, please, Mello? Just be excited with me for _one little minute_, Mells? After all," a sly look crossed his face, "there is _one_ room I haven't checked out yet. "Oh?" Mello looked up, curiosity piqued in his blue eyes. "Which one would that be?"

Now Matt looked shy, almost embarrassed. "Well, I mean… _our_ room? I know we don't really _have_ to share a room now, of course, but you never seemed to mind… and, well, that's normal for a… couple… in a… relationship… right?" Definitely blushing now, the redhead peeked uncertainly at the blonde through his bangs.

Mello put down the stack of plates he had been holding, crossed the room, and forcefully wrapped Matt's arms around himself before arching up on his tiptoes to kiss the redhead aggressively. After a moment, he caught Matt's lower lip between his teeth, nibbling insistently until the redhead let him in. Mello liked to be the one in control for a change.

After a while he pulled away, fingers of one hand still tangled in the red locks at the nape of the other's neck. "Yes, we will be sharing a room," he purred seductively. "I wouldn't even consider any alternative."

When Mello's words hit him, a smirk crossed Matt's features, eyes darkening with desire. "Good," he answered in a similar purr before Mello pulled him back down for another toe-curling, breath-stealing kiss. He let the blonde take the lead for a minute, and then gradually reestablished dominance Mello, who submitted willingly and curved in around the redhead's body, allowing the other to support him.

Matt wasn't quite sure what was happening until he felt Mello's hands tug on his belt loops and the blonde panted hard against his hot and needy mouth. "Which way… to this mysterious bedroom?"

Without breaking the kiss, Matt scooped up the blonde easily into his arms. If he hadn't been so preoccupied, Mello probably would have been shocked by this sudden action.

The redhead carried Mello to the bedroom, but he didn't notice the décor. In fact, he barely noticed anything in his short glance around except the location of the bed. With great care, he laid the blonde on the king-sized four-poster in the center of the room.

Mello shivered at the coolness; satin sheets. The chill was quickly replaced with warmth (literal and figurative) as Matt lowered himself on top of the blonde, still supporting his weight on his hands and knees on either side of Mello's delicious hips.

He wasted no time in rejoining their lips, tongues melting and exploring. Finally Mello's frequent sighing gave way to wanton moans. "Please," he all but begged Matt, blue eyes smoldering with desire.

"Only if you're sure you want this," the redhead answered in a husky voice.

"Of course," Mello said disbelievingly. "Don't… don't _you_ want this?" The proof was there, pressing against the blonde's thigh.

"Yes, of course," the redhead assured him, reaching up with one hand to caress the other's face. He met Mello's eyes and whispered, "It's just… I'm afraid… I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," the blonde promised in a loving, sure voice. "I trust you, Mail. I _love_ you." Matt's eyes widened at the use of his real name, and he nodded.

"I love you too, Mihael," he replied, leaning down to trail sweetly tentative butterfly kisses from the corner of the blonde's mouth across his jawbone, down his neck, all the way to his shoulder. By the time his journey was finished, Mello's body was all but crying out for attention.

Once more Matt pulled away to look the blonde in the eyes. "Are you ready?" He asked, nervous but trying not to show it. Rather than reacting with what would have been rather characteristic impatience, Mello smiled up at the redhead and, wrapping his arms securely around the other's neck, promised, "Never been more ready in my life."


	12. Chapter 12: Let Me Show You What Love Is

**A/N:** Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento! *cowers* Please don't burn me for being so late! I'm sorry, I just really struggled with this chappie, that's all. I didn't mean for it to take for-fricking-_ever_ like this, I swear. So… please enjoy? And, I know I'm horrible for making y'all wait like this, but please review if you like it anyway? This is my first-ever lemon, so please be gentle, even if I don't deserve it.

Yes, I'm aware this is sort of a teaser chapter, but I finally had a bit of inspiration that ran out before I could finish this, so I figured I'd post what I had and edit/add to it later. Okay? And I will, I promise.

**Warnings: Strong** yaoi content. Gay sex, y'all. (Hohmy, if my mother knew about this…) I'm going to try to keep all curse words out of this chapter for a change. It's about love, right? Annnnd… lessee here… That's it, I guess.

**Disclaimer:** I do **not **own** any **part of Death Note. 'Cause, if I did, this chapter would basically be the pilot episode.

**Side Note:** Yes, I decided to only refer to them by their real names in this chapter because I thought it represented intimacy, ne? Don't tell Kira XD

~MxM~~MxM~~MxM~~~MxM~~MxM~~MxM~~~MxM~~MxM~~MxM~~~MxM~~MxM~

Mail felt his heart swell with love in his chest at Mihael's words.

"Okay," he murmured, "But if we're going to do this, we're going to do this _my_ way."

Mihael's eyes widened. "What do you mean?" His sense of foreboding vanished as he saw tenderness grow in Mail's eyes, in his smile. "I _mean_," the redhead reiterated, "that this… the first time… it'll be about you, okay? I want this to be special, for you especially. So don't worry about trying to please me, just feel, okay?"

The blonde was about to protest (after all, he felt that Mail's happiness and his own were mutually inclusive events), but Mail's lips pressed against his own interrupted him.

The redhead kissed him with a surprising neediness considering his previous words, but he held true to his promise. Slowly, lovingly, he undressed the blonde. Thankfully, he'd given up his leather for the occasion—after all, their move was a low-profile operation, and that was the sort of outfit that definitely garnered attention. It was a good thing, too—there was no way Mail would have been able to get those pants off easily.

As soon as he'd thoroughly divested Mihael of his garments, the redhead looked him over with an appreciative eye—he definitely liked what he saw. The blonde was slender but curvy, with showstopping hips, feminine thighs and calves, all encased in skin the color that reminded him of peaches and cream, and that had the consistency of ski wax—smooth and firm and buttery soft. Mail couldn't wait to sink his fingertips into it, so he didn't.

Mihael let out a low moan, unable to contain his pleasure as the redhead slowly kissed down his neck, sucking on his pulse point and nibbling at his collarbone. As his hands leisurely grazed over the oh-so-soft skin, one moving to gently grip a hipbone and the other stroking unhurriedly up and down his side with a feather-light touch, raising goose bumps, the thought crossed the blonde's mind that Mail seemed to know _exactly_ how to touch him to drive him crazy.

Before he lost his mind, he let out a low, desperate whine. "Nnn, Mail, please!" He demanded, feeling the pulse of breath against his neck as the redhead chuckled. "Impatient, are we?" "Yes!" The blonde replied shamelessly.

"Alright, alright." It seemed the blonde was ready for more… _stimulating_ contact. Wiggling downwards, Mail soon came in close contact with one of the blonde's nipples. Taking it into his mouth without hesitation, he began to play with it with his tongue. This earned him a small noise and a shiver from the blonde, but it wasn't enough. Reaching up with one hand to stimulate the other, he rolled it gently between his fingertips, and then kneaded it as he began to suck on the one in his mouth, gradually increasing the pressure. "Mmm—_ah_!—nnn…" Mihael moaned, uncontrollably, then let out a sharp yelp followed by a whine of pleasure as the redhead pleasuring him nipped lightly, accompanying his mouth's actions by pinching the other nipple. Deciding he liked the noises and wanted more of them, Mail reached down with his free hand to trail teasingly up one of the blonde's silky thighs before moving to grasp his heavy manhood in an easy grip, causing Mihael to inhale sharply before letting it out in a long, shuddery moan as the redhead began to stroke him. "Mmmhhhh…"

Above him, the blonde was going crazy. Eyes fluttering shut and face flushed, he reveled in the feelings swirling through him. Mail's hot, wet mouth and talented hands were slowly driving him insane, he was sure of it. "_Ahn_!" He needed _more_, and he alerted the redhead to this simple fact by bucking his hips towards him.

Mail didn't laugh this time at the blonde's show of impatience, instead taking the initiative to move even lower, gripping both of the feminine hips in a firm but tender hold before delicately placing hickeys in the hollow of each hip, to the blonde's pleasure and slight embarrassment. The redhead paid no heed to this second emotion—he wanted to leave a sign of commitment on the blonde, to show that he was surely and solidly _his._ As soon as this goal was achieved, he wasted no time in sucking gently on the head of Mihael's member, who cried out softly and gave a full-body shudder at the contact. He didn't waste time with teasing now—he steadily took more and more of the blonde into his mouth, till he was deepthroating him, bobbing his head rapidly. Mihael's alternating moans and pants filled the room along with soft sucking sounds. The blonde's moans finally blended together, into one long, solid high keening sound as he came. Eyes dark with desire, Mail looked up through his eyelashes as he swallowed.

Mihael slowly came down from his high, his breathing evening out and his erratic heartbeat steadying, only to have his regained composure shattered as the redhead slowly crept up his body, caressing the sensitive skin and kissing his way up the blonde's chest. By the time Mail had locked their mouths together—a small bit of Mihael's mind noted with mild interest that he could taste his own essence—the blonde was hard again, and notified the redhead in the same way as before. Much to his dismay, Mail seemed content to leave it at kissing him for now. However, the erection pressing into the blonde's bare thigh said otherwise, and Mihael smiled as he planned how to get what he wanted.

Mail pulled back slightly, eyes wide, when Mihael reached up to grip his still-clothed member, hard and throbbing, unexpectedly. His eyes slid shut as the blonde slowly began to grope him, unable to control a moan as he finally received the stimulation he'd been craving since the start, a craving he had been steadfastly ignoring.

Mihael was feeling pretty high and mighty at the moment, grinning cockily as he saw Mail melt at his touch. Before he could move any further however, he suddenly found his wrists pinned above his head and a playfully stern redhead gazing into his eyes. "What did I tell you?" Mail admonished gently, pressing against his wrists lightly to reinforce his words. "If it gets you to hurry up already," the blonde retorted. Ignoring him, the redhead continued, slowly shaking his head, "Please don't tell me I'll have to tie you down."

"Ooh, kinky," the blonde teased with a smirk. Abruptly, Mail grew serious. "No… I don't want it… to be that way. Not our first time," he insisted. Further protests were brought to a halt via Mihael's lips against his own. "No, of course not," the blonde murmured against his mouth. "I was only kidding, promise."

"Better be," Mail growled softly in return, releasing the other's wrists to allow him to wrap them once more again his neck. "Well," the blonde replied breathlessly, "if _that_ doesn't get you to hurry it up, then what will?"

"Hmm…" Mail looked up at the ceiling as he considered the question. "You could beg," he suggested after a moment, eliciting an outraged gasp from the blonde, which in turn caused the redhead to look back down at him, smirking cockily. Mihael glared up at him and snarled, "No _way_!"

His resolve was weakened considerably by the feel of Mail's silky lips caressing his neck again, nibbling at his earlobe and sucking seductively when he found a sensitive spot that made the blonde inhale sharply, and arch his back slightly off the bed. "Oh—_oh—_ oh fine," the blonde gasped, giving in to the sensation. "Just—just—oh God please Mail _do it_ already!"

Chuckling under his breath, Mail drew back, gazing down at Mihael with amusement. "With pleasure…"

Staring into the other's eyes, he slowly raised his hand to the blonde's face, offering his fingers to the other's luscious mouth. Mihael accepted the fingers eagerly, greedily almost, coating them thoroughly with saliva before drawing his hot, wet tongue seductively across them, making Mail shudder with pleasure at the sensation. Just when he decided that it was enough, and started to pull his fingers out of Mihael's mouth, the blonde gently rebuffed that action by gripping them gently with his teeth, preventing their removal.

"Not a chance," the blonde said with a smile after he'd gotten his point across, in response to the redhead's confused expression. "Check my pants pocket." After another bewildered look, and a smidge of disappointment, Mail clambered off of the blonde and located the earlier-discarded trousers, digging into a pocket to pull out—surprise—a tube of lubricant. Mail shot the blonde an incredulous look before heading back to the bed and resuming his former position.

"I thought—today was a good day," the blonde explained with a breathless laugh. "Then why'd you go on with _that_—" Mail indicated their previous contact by holding up his free hand and wiggling the still-damp fingers—"if you had_ this_ the whole time?" Mihael laughed again. "Because I knew it'd get you hot."

Mail's eyes narrowed playfully. "Why, you—" He began before he was silenced by the blonde's lips against his own in a kiss so persuasive it should be illegal. Pulling back slightly, he kissed the edge of Mihael's jaw as he unscrewed the cap of the lube, squeezing a bit onto his fingers and working it in his hand a moment to warm it up before slowly shifting positions, easing himself between the blonde's legs and nudging his thighs apart with a tender touch. This part was important.

He sighed, hard, lifting his bangs as he probed Mihael's entrance with a gentle exploratory movement. He kept his eyes on the other's face, checking for discomfort. But the blonde only gazed up at him with eyes full of pleading desire. So, with one last kiss, Mail carefully slid the first finger in. Mihael inhaled sharply at the intrusion, but his expression betrayed no signs of pain, yet. So Mail began to slowly pump the finger in and out, massaging the tight muscles until he felt the blonde relax a bit. Then he added the second finger, just as gently as the first.

This time, Mihael whimpered, burying his face into the crook of the redhead's shoulder and biting down firmly. "Don't stop," he insisted before Mail could even open his mouth, his voice slightly muffled. Hesitantly, the redhead obeyed, working the two fingers for a long moment before scissoring them, starting to stretch the blonde, trying to make it easier for him.

Mihael didn't make a sound when the third finger was finally added, but Mail felt the teeth gripping his shoulder clench slightly more tightly and he knew the blonde was in pain. Still, Mihael insisted he continue. Mail started probing, feeling around… "Ah!" There. That was the spot that made it so much better for the blonde. He knew because as soon as his fingers brushed _that spot_, Mihael had immediately arched off the bed, releasing his shoulder to cry out, then to moan when Mail kept the pressure on it. Trying to memorize its location, Mail finished preparing the blonde, stimulating that spot continuously to lessen the other's pain.

After the sudden, violent assault of pleasure, the blonde whimpered when Mail removed his fingers, feeling an odd sense of coldness and loss. Mail reached for the lubricant, but was preempted by Mihael, who snatched up the tube and squeezed some of the liquid into his palm before smoothing it onto the other's by-now painful erection. Mail's eyes rolled back at the contact he'd wanted, _needed_ for so long now, before he gently pulled Mihael's hands away. With one hand, he lovingly laced his fingers into the blonde's. With the other, he slipped his arm around the blonde's back, supporting him and holding him close. The two shared the most loving kiss they'd ever imagined before, staring into Mihael's eyes, Mail whispered, "I love you," as he slid into the blonde.

"Nn…" Mihael's eyes closed as his body tensed. "Are you okay?" Mail whispered anxiously. "Mail…" the blonde gasped, opening his eyes and kissing him feverishly. "Please… _move_."

Mail was more than ready to comply.


End file.
